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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936485">Rabbits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwoman/pseuds/wildwoman'>wildwoman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Werewolf Mates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:28:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwoman/pseuds/wildwoman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“How can this be right?” Remus exploded. “Everything, everything says it, that finding your mate feels right. But she’s a teenager, a child! She-”</p>
<p>“She’s of age. You said so yourself,” Bill interrupted. Remus growled at him, reminding him that of the two of them, he was the senior, he was the full wolf, he was the alpha. </p>
<p>“When I woke up, after- after the moon, I was covered in blood, and do you know what there was?”</p>
<p>Bill stayed silent, wary of Moony in Remus’ eyes.</p>
<p>“Rabbits. I was surrounded by dead fucking rabbits, and everything in me was telling me, telling Moony to take them to her, to provide.” He gestured wildly around the house, “How am I supposed to provide for ANYBODY” He thundered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. How long have you known?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“How long have you known?” It wasn’t often that Bill Weasley was shocked: in the month since the battle in the astronomy tower his wolf-ish senses had taken care of that. Somehow, this was different, when he’d had an owl asking him to come up to Scotland for some advice, he had never expected this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since the battle.” A defeated looking Remus Lupin said. He was the thinnest he had ever been, and a spattering of fresh injuries were visible on his hands and neck. Bill assumed there were more that he couldn’t see. “She’s… she’s of age. I hadn’t seen her since she turned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Turned?” Bill raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not like that!” Remus snapped, the wolf in him furious at the idea. “Since she turned seventeen. I’ve been… away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill knew exactly where he’d been: undercover, infiltrating werewolf packs, but he asked anyway “And since you found out? Where have you been since then?” he demanded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought- I thought I could distract myself, put it off. But she’ll be there tonight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill was silent and the tension hung thick in the air; both men knew exactly how much was relying on tonight’s plan. Seven guardians, seven Harrys. There could be no rampant wolves getting in the way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How can this be </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Remus exploded. “Everything, </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> says it, that finding your mate feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But she’s a teenager, a child! She-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s of age. You said so yourself,” Bill interrupted. Remus growled at him, reminding him that of the two of them, he was the senior, he was the full wolf, he was the alpha. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I woke up, after- after the moon, I was covered in blood, and do you know what there was?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill stayed silent, wary of Moony in Remus’ eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rabbits. I was surrounded by dead fucking rabbits, and everything in me was telling me, telling </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moony</span>
  </em>
  <span> to take them to her, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>provide</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He gestured wildly around the house, “How am I supposed to provide for ANYBODY” He thundered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t wrong, the neglected cottage mirrored the state of the man who owned it, and Bill had to remind himself that Remus had been away for months. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if I could, what was I meant to do, turn up at her </span>
  <em>
    <span>muggle parents</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ with an armful of bloody rabbits? Tell them sorry, but she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine </span>
  </em>
  <span>now?” Inside him, Moony twitched at the idea, pleased, but Remus was still furious, gesticulating manically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remus, Remus you need to calm down” Bill offered him a calming draught from his pocket. Taking it, Remus downed the vial and threw it against the wall, shattering. He spun on his heel, crossing the small room in only a few paces, and slumped in a rickety dining chair, his back hunched over. Slowly, he raised both elbows to lean on the table, and rested his head in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bill looked down at the man. In the past month Remus had taken him under his wing to teach him about his new, wolf-ish tendencies. Now, it was Bill’s turn, because this wasn’t just a fleeting crush on Tonks that needed dealing with, this was important. This was mates. This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Seven Harrys and a Werewolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A loud crack filled the air, and in a quiet road in Little Whinging a scruffy man holding a broom appeared as if from nowhere. Sniffing the air, he began to walk. There was no sign, or rather, no scent, of her yet, and Remus Lupin was safe for now. As he walked, an array of bizarre characters joined him from the side roads: a scarred redhead with a breathtaking blonde, a bearded man far too big to be human, a one eyed man with a cane gripping another smaller man tightly by the scruff of the neck, a woman whose hair was different colour by the time they had reached the end of the street, a quartet of redhead men who arrived together, and finally a tall, dark man in purple robes. They may have been a strange group, but they came together without talking, each assuming their familiar places. They were the Order of the Phoenix. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last to join them came in the form of a small black car, which tucked neatly behind a transit van on the side of the road. In the quiet of the night you could hear the door opened, and Remus froze. He could </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill hung back, giving his silent support to the older man with a pat of the shoulder, “Not now Remus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nodded, but tensed as Ron left his family and ran to hug Hermione, the rumble of a growl beginning in his chest. There was another man </span>
  <em>
    <span>touching</span>
  </em>
  <span> his Hermione. Bill shifted to grip Remus’ wand arm; there was too much riding on tonight’s mission for Remus to mess it up before it had even begun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a group, they made their way in the dark to Number 4, Privet Drive, and Mad Eye pushed to the front, using the head of his cane to rap on the door. The mission had begun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Mad Eye explained the plan to Harry and the six others took their polyjuice, Remus remained outside. He couldn’t bear the hugs with Harry, the familiarity with the Weasleys. It made him itch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the six prospective Harrys begin to undress, Bill and Kingsley came to join him outside, clearly uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night for it,” Kingsley attempted to break the silence. No-one replied. Over Bill’s shoulder Remus could see her. She was facing away from him, pulling off her jacket, and absolutely nothing was going to make him look away. He longed for the sight of her skin, her smooth back, the shape of her hips that he was sure would fit perfectly in his rough hands. His hands, which right now, were shaking violently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay, Remus?” Kingsley asked. Bill was watching him intently too, he knew he had to come up with something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Change of plan Kings. You’re taking George on the threstral, I’m taking Hermione.” He said. There was no room for argument. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood next to his broom, watching her from afar. Watching her yet again hugging people who </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Perhaps he’d overestimated how ready he was for this mission. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded sharply at Mad Eye. “Right!” The other man snapped, “Get to it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione walked tentatively over to him, she was eyeing up the broom. She was scared, he could smell it, but at least he could smell that she was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> even when she looked so much like Harry. Inside his head, Moony growled. He wasn’t happy that she was scared, she should never be scared, and she especially shouldn’t be scared of </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her-Hermione.” He choked out. He tried to smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Profess-” She began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.” He cut her off. “Just Remus, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, Re- Remus. Hi.” She stuttered. Moony purred, and Remus managed the smile at last. “Mad Eye said there was a change of plans, but it would make far more sense if I went on the threstral, I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not possible, I’m afraid.” He cut her off again. “Threstrals don’t particularly like me.” He raised an eyebrow, designed to remind her of the wolf hiding just below the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could go with-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He snapped. He’d never been so forceful with her, not when he’d been instructing her as a teacher, not in battle, not even saving her in the shrieking shack. She recoiled. “You have to come with me. It’s important.” He left no time for her to disagree, and held the broom towards her. “You’re on the front.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching someone swing a leg over a broom was something he would never have considered arousing before, but this was a different story. She was tentative, and he scowled at the broom enviously. Inside his head the wolf warred with the man. Moony was furious that anyone, anything, might be between her legs like that, and Remus was trying desperately to keep him at bay.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>It’s just a broom. It’s my broom. It’s my broom I’ve had since I was twenty. It’s my broom and my witch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus?” Hermione’s voice snapped him out of his internal debate. He coughed, trying desperately to calm himself. Eventually, his eyes flickered to hers, or rather, Harry’s. He looked away before Moony could raise his displeasure with yet another part of this plan. He swung his leg over the broom behind her, ready to go. He brought his arms slowly, deliberately, around either side of her, both hands holding the broomstick. He couldn’t bear to touch her and not have her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Mad Eye called, and Hermione shrank back towards Remus, her hatred of flying betraying her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Hermione touched what was effectively Harry’s back against Remus' chest, he pushed off of the ground and fought with every ounce of his being the wolf in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sectumsempra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“SECTUMSEMPRA” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus would recognise that voice anywhere, but the curse came from nowhere. He hadn’t even been aware there were still death eaters on their tale. The flash of white light streaked towards them before Remus could react, and he could taste hot blood in the air. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione’s blood. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Letting go of the broom, he wrapped both arms around the witch, and with a crack, disapperated. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Safe. Safe. Safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When his feet touched solid ground he opened his eyes to see the door to Grimmauld Place. With one arm across Hermione’s chest, he backed into the house, dragging her with him. She fought his grip, screaming but trying to walk. There was no point. Warding the door behind them, Remus lay Hermione on the carpet. He summoned a cushion from the drawing room and pushed it under her head. As she began to shift back to herself, her screams echoed through the empty house, drowning out the rest of the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus could only see her, see now that Snape’s curse had sliced across her shoulder, barely missing her neck. The fire in him was rising, and using the last bit of his self control he murmured “Vulnera sanetur,” once standing, twice as he fell to his knees beside her, three times as he realised what was going to happen. It was too much blood, too close to the moon, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>too much, too much, too much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her screams continued as the wound tried to close, as his eyes hardened into that of the wolf, and as he sunk his teeth into the blood soaked shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione woke herself by screaming. All she knew was she was on the floor, with a cushion under her head and a heavy jacket across her, and that her shoulder was </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She couldn’t bear to move, and between her agonised cries mustered the energy to scream for Harry. There was no response, and darkness took her again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She woke again in the same place. The burning had subsided but when she tried to move she cried out. Collapsing back to her pillow, the blood crusted to her crackled and peeled. She whimpered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry?” She called into the darkness. There was no response. “Ex- Expecto Patronum,” She tried to summon her patronus to send for help, but overcome by pain it flickered and died. A sob escaped her, and she tried one last time, “Alohamora!” It was dimmer than normal, but her wand flickered and lit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Above Hermione’s head, tattered curtains flew open, the woman behind them awoken by the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mudblood, half-breed mudblood!” Walburga Black begun to scream, and Hermione was almost relieved hearing the slur. She was in Grimmauld Place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K-Kreacher?” She called. There was no response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mudblood tries to summon my elf!” The portrait cackled above her, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kreacher! Mudblood scu-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a crack Kreacher appeared, responding only to his beloved Walburga. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“K- Kreacher,” Hermione croaked, “help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The elf sneered at her, seeming to enjoy being able to look down on her. Eventually he responded, “If the mudblood needs help, perhaps she should ask her own elf.” He shuffled away as Hermione sobbed, retreating into the darkness. But she knew what to do now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dobby!” She called, and the deafening crack of apparition was immediate. “Dobby-” She was whimpering again, “Dobby, help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dobby wrapped his tiny hand around her wrist, and when she blinked she could see the burrow out of the corner of her eye. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Burrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next time Hermione awoke, it couldn’t have been more different. She recognised completely the bedroom she had shared with Ginny for years. She was comfortable and soft, and when she turned her head, Ginny was in the bed opposite, and Harry was slumped in a chair, asleep next to her. Her eyes settled on where their hands were linked, even in sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha- Harry,” Hermione croaked. She tried to lift her hand towards him and yelped. His eyes opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Stay still ‘Mione.” Harry dropped Ginny's hand and moved towards her, gripping her wrist to stop her from moving. “You’re okay now, you’re here.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling her shoulder throb, tears began to well in Hermione’s eyes. Harry lifted a potion to her lips and she drank it unquestioningly, feeling a wave of cool travel down her arm, calming the pain. Rising from her bed, Ginny took the empy vial out of Harry's hand and slipped out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, what happened?” She asked quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know?” Harry questioned. When she didn’t say anything he continued, “I was hoping you’d tell me Hermione, Dobby just found you at Grimmauld Place!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Remus?” Was Hermione’s next question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-one knows Hermione, he never turned up,” said Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He- He was there… at Number Twelve,” Hermione said after a pause. She struggled to remember anything other than searing pain but the memory was there; Remus dragging her inside, waving his wand over her, leaning down, down, down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” snapped Harry, interrupting Hermione’s efforts to remember, “he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He was fine, and he left you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I don’t know.” She said. It was true, she remembered only drifting inbetween blackness and agony, but the idea of being left tugged at something inside of her. There was a lump in her throat, and she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t place the reason. She knew Remus, she knew that wasn’t at all like him. “Harry, he... He probably just had to go out, I’m sure he wouldn’t have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a week ago, Hermione! The mission, it was a week ago!” Harry shot to his feet, “He left, he left you for dead and he’s gone! No-one’s even heard from him!” Wand in hand, Harry stormed from the room, the magic in the air around him almost tangibly cracking. As he left, tears begun to stream down Hermione’s face. She lay still but inside she felt like she was breaking. She didn’t have the energy to be reasonable, and Remus had </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the next week, Harry and Ron slowly filled her in on what else had happened during the airborne battle. Molly had chased them out of the room when, with no warning, they sprung Mad Eye’s death on her and she burst into tears once again. She had sobbed until Fred and George had staged a mini fireworks display in the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Hermione’s arm was comfortable enough to allow her out of bed, although she continued to wear a muggle sling as she moved slowly around the Burrow, and drink vial upon vial of the healing potion which Ginny delivered to their bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pain was almost entirely alleviated by the second week, but Hermione had never felt worse, and she had absolutely no idea why. She was irritable, snapping at Ron, refusing to discuss wedding preparations with Molly and Ginny, barely leaving her bed at all. A stack of books which she had brought with her, all related to healing, were on her bedside table, and not one of them could explain what was happening to her. She had even consulted a muggle psychology book, worried about depression and PTSD. When she had finished reading though, she just knew that wasn’t the answer. That could explain why she was so exhausted, so irritated and disinterested, but couldn’t explain why, with no physical symptoms, every part of her physically yearned for something she couldn’t explain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually Hermione resorted to an almost nocturnal lifestyle. She was so incredibly fed up with every other member of The Burrow, she would wait until they had all made their way to bed, and creep downstairs to devour the plate of dinner which Molly would dutifully leave out for her. She would research as much as she could with the limited resources she had to hand, never yeilding the answers she needed, and she would pace, or sometimes run, just to distract herself from her internal ache with a physical, tangible one. The night she went running under the full moon, Bill arrived for breakfast to find her passed out on the doorstep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. An Ache Like This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hermione had frankly had enough of waking up in new places not knowing how she had arrived there. Whilst it didn’t quite trump the floor of Grimmauld Place, she had woken up on the sofa in The Burrow with a visibly concerned Bill looming over her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Lupin?” Was the first thing out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why… Why should I know?” Hermione asked, but her heart jumped into her throat just hearing his name. She almost felt guilty, as if she was hiding something from Bill, like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> know where Remus was. “What happened, Bill?” She asked shortly, “Why am I down here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her tone was demanding but Bill couldn’t answer her. “I found you Hermione, you were passed out in the garden when I arrived!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scolded Bill, “I’m sure I just fell asleep, I’m not fully recovered and I just went for a walk in the garden. Why would I have passed out?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean recovered?” Bill asked. He eyed her shoulder, where he could see the end of the sectumsempra scar peeking out of her t-shirt sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just… My shoulder. I’m sure they told you?” Hermione replied. Bill had been in and out of the house all week for Molly’s wedding planning, and she couldn’t believe no-one had mentioned it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Er, yeah, yeah they did.” There was a pause, and Bill got the sense that they were talking at cross purposes. “Where is Remus then?” Bill asked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I told you Bill, I don’t know. And I told Harry already, he was there when we arrived at Grimmauld place. He healed my shoulder, I remember that! But he- he wasn’t there when I woke up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill’s head snapped towards her, “Wait, what?” He sounded incredulous, incredulous and angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no-one’s heard from him, Bill.” Hermione reached up, thinking that the man's visible anger grief fueled, and trying to reassure him, but he jumped backwards as if her touch would burn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Hermione pulled herself up into a seated position, curling into one end of the sofa. Bill sat on the arm at the other end and rested his head in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, I hate to ask you this,” Bill began, “but Remus didn’t… he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything to you, did he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not!” Hermione was astounded, Remus was her professor! And besides, she knew, she just knew, that he would never do anything to hurt her. But Bill stared her down and she tried to remember. “He just, he healed me. I don’t… I don’t remember. There was so much blood, Bill.” The memory brought a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes. “He was covered in blood, and, and, I was on the floor. He- he was kneeling over me and he healed me but everything</span>
  <em>
    <span>burned</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione,” said Bill tentatively. He could see how badly the witch was hurting and he knew he could only make this worse. “Hermione, can you show me the scar? Please. It’s important.” He locked eyes with her, and Hermione could see the sincerity there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she replied, “just- just give me a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill nodded once, and Hermione left the living room. When she returned she had changed her clothes. She was no longer wearing the t-shirt she had had on before, but a tank top and a zip up jacket that Bill recognised as being Harry’s. She sat back down on the sofa and pulled the jacket down to expose the still red scar. Holding the jacket in place over her breast with one hand, she pulled down the straps of her tank top and bra, and the full extent of her injury could be seen. The glistening red gash covered most of her upper arm, across the front of her shoulder, and almost touched her neck. Bill wasn’t surprised it had taken so long for her to heal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving closer to her, Bill raised his hands to inspect the wound, raising his eyebrows to silently ask Hermione’s permission to touch her. She nodded, comfortable with Bill, but even so one corner of her mind was screaming that this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that this was the wrong person to be checking over her, touching her, caring for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione watched Bill intensely as he retrieved his wand from his back pocket, running it over the mark. He was murmuring spells she’d never heard, some of them in languages she couldn’t understand. She wasn't used to not having any answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was sectumsempra, Bill” she tried to help, but he ignored her. “What are you looking for, Bill?” Hermione asked, trying to draw his attention, but he still refused to answer her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had only just resigned herself to the inspection when Bill froze. His wand touched gently on a spot towards the top of the angry scar where the line of the gash wasn’t so clean. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel?” Bill asked, and he tapped his wand on the mark twice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost instantly, Hermione was overwhelmed. Spreading outwards from the touch of the wand were almost indistinguishable waves of unbearable heat and burning cold. So many sensations spread through her simultaneously, that she could not respond. Her breath caught in her throat as the waves</span>
  <span> traveled outwards, down through her fingers only to be replaced by the yearning </span>
  <em>
    <span>ache</span>
  </em>
  <span> she had become accustomed to. Only now it was amplified. Before she had merely wanted, and now she needed- needed </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The question was what on earth could possibly fulfill an ache like this. Tears welled and flowed down her face. This was the opposite of everything Hermione knew; she couldn't rationalise this, couldn't explain it, couldn't even begin to. She let go of her jacket and pulled her knees up in front of her. Wrapping her arms around them, there was nothing she could do except let herself cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bill watched Hermione helpless on the sofa, backing away slowly. The spells he had learned for his curse breaking job may have helped him to detect the werewolf’s bite even covered by Hermione’s injury, but he had had no idea just what it would arouse in her when he tapped the mark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry!” Bill shouted up the stairs, “Come and keep an eye on Hermione,” he demanded. Bill didn't have to have been bitten himself to know full well what had happened at Grimmauld Place, and hearing Harry start down the stairs he flew out the front door, wand already in hand, and on his way to see a particular werewolf. He didn’t have to go far though: just as Bill slammed the front door a loud crack sounded from the edge of the wards. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Know What You Did</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was hard to get a rise out of Bill Weasley. Many had tried, and Merlin knows Fleur had come close that night in the hospital wing, but Bill prided himself on his calm demeanor in even the most volatile of situations. He could see the shadowy shape of a man in the reeds beyond the wards, pushing his way through slowly, painfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you did.” Bill said measuredly. Bill knew that man in the distance, he was Remus Lupin, and he was perfectly capable of hearing Bill’s quiet statement. Yet, Remus said nothing. He only continued forwards, finally emerging through both the reeds and the wards. He could be seen clearly now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill had never seen the man look worse; he was positively gaunt. Remus was visibly limping, his eyes were sunken and dark, and the long coat he wore was hanging loosely from his shoulders, emphasised by the gash in one side of it. He held his wand tightly, but Bill could see him shaking, and doubted Remus would be able to produce any magic at all in his current state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Remus finally approached the house, Bill repeated his statement. “I know what you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you know why I’m here.” Remus muttered darkly. His eyes were pained, unable to settle. “Step aside,” he barked at Bill, and despite having had every intention of protecting Hermione from the other man, Bill obeyed. As he watched Remus struggle with the heavy door and twitched to go and help him, he understood. Remus had taken him under his wing, mentored him; they had worked through all the side effects of being bitten by Greyback together. Remus had brought Bill into his pack, and there was nothing a beta wolf could do to stop an alpha from going to his mate. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mate.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus Lupin had never felt Moony this close to taking control before. The sun had barely risen this morning before his reprieve from the wolf was over. They had been bickering for days: internal quips turning into physical last night when the full moon had. Remus had forgotten the last time he had eaten, and he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>starving</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Still, he had put off coming here. That was until he had attempted to summon his cloak and nothing had happened. His wand didn’t even twitch. He had been forced to down every pepper-up in his house to even summon the energy to dissaperate. It was worth it though, because now </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> was nearby. Moony didn’t care that she probably hated him, Moony only cared that his mate was here, and his mate was hurting. Remus could feel it from the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus!” Arthur Weasley called from the kitchen as he passed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus didn’t respond, but footsteps thundered down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moony!” Fred and George called as he rounded the last half landing, “what-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moony, and it was Moony, snarled at them as they neared the bottom of the stairs. He stared the boys down until they stilled on the bottom stair. The wolf briefly satisfied, Remus spun around and flung the living room door open. Hermione was asleep again, tucked into one end of the sofa where Bill had left her, clothes still pulled off of one shoulder to expose her scar. In between Moony and the witch stood Harry Potter, wand raised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus,” Harry begun “What on Earth happened-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry may have been family, the last remnant of his original pack, but clearly the boy hadn’t gotten the memo about who was in charge here. Remus' head snapped to Harry, and his chest began to rumble with anger at having to take his eyes off his witch. That’s right, she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and this man, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was trying to stop him from going to her. Remus dropped his wand. It would be of no use to him now, and if Harry refused to move, it would be the beast inside he would have to deal with, not the frail looking man who contained it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus, what exactly’s going on?” Harry demanded to know. “You left her at Grimmauld place and now-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus lunged at him, but for all of his protective instincts he was still a weakened man. In the time it took Remus to cross the distance and bring his hands to where Harry’s throat had been, Bill had pulled the younger wizard out of the way. Remus hadn’t even noticed he’d been followed into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not now, Harry.” Bill tried to convince him, “we need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Hermione?” Harry was indignant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus had reacquainted himself with his surroundings. Harry was no longer between him and Hermione, which was good. But Harry was struggling against Bill’s grip to return to being between Remus and his Hermione, which was not good. Remus turned to Harry, he was the defender now, defending his mate. The previously agitated wolf in his head was still burning with rage at the notion of being kept away, but he was calculated about it now, calmer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill’s right Harry,” Remus warned. His voice was low and steady. “You need to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to go now!” Remus was louder now, snapping at the boy in front of him. Harry’s momentary surprise gave Bill an opportunity, and he pulled Harry through the doorway back into the hall. The door slammed behind them, but neither had touched it; it must have been Remus. In the corridor the pair were cornered, already faced with the Weasley twins and Arthur, with Molly quickly appearing behind her husband from the kitchen, and Ron and Ginny tearing down the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill dropped Harry’s wrist from where he had been clutching it, but locked the living room door behind them. I’ll… I’ll explain,” he said resignedly, “you’d best call the others.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arthur nodded at his eldest son and returned to the kitchen to summon the order. One by one, they followed. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the living room, the slam of the door had woken Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Re-Remus?” Hermione asked quietly. She was still groggy from sleep and couldn't quite work out if the man in front of her was really there, or just some leftover thought from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione.” Remus sighed, sounding relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened to you?” the sleepy witch asked. Hermione had spent hours upon hours devising theories on what might have happened to the older wizard, but right now she couldn’t bring a single one of them to the forefront of her mind. She was still cloudy with sleep, and drained from the past couple of weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you.” Remus assured, and he moved to sit with her on the beaten up sofa. “I’ll tell you, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus reached out and took Hermione’s hand from where it was wrapped around her knees, and held it gently. Hermione let him. The gentle enveloping of her trembling fingers in his large, rough hand was the furthest thing she could imagine from the rough way Remus had dragged her into Grimmauld place. She stared at the spot where his fingers hid hers from view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione?” Remus asked, trying to draw her attention. When she didn’t respond, he used two fingers on his other hand to push her chin up. Eventually Hermione moved her gaze to meet his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you, I promise.” Remus reiterated. “But you can sleep now. Just sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione didn’t need telling twice. She nodded dreamily, and nuzzled her head back into the sofa cushion she was leaning against. Closing her eyes, Remus could see her breathing slow as she succumbed almost immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Hermione settled, Remus slid the straps of her clothes back up and over her shoulder. Then, still holding her hand, Remus leant his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Dear Remus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Remus,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry it has taken so long for me to contact you, I hope you’re doing okay. I’m sure you can understand that it has taken a while for me to come to terms with everything that has happened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I still have no recollection of anything which happened following our arrival at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Also, as you will know, a full lunar cycle has now passed since the events which took place there, and I showed no sign of transforming at the full moon, which I’m sure is a relief to us both.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I understand completely that you had no control over said events, and that they only took place due to your condition, however I do have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>Although I did not experience a transformation during the full moon, I have assumed I will have some side effects of lycanthropy. I had been hoping to speak to Bill and Fleur about this, however they have been busy with planning the wedding. Please could you let me know what these side effects are likely to be? </span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Is there any historical precedent for our situation? In all my research I have only found one incidence of two full werewolves who were mated. </span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Many thanks,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Hermione,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Physically I am well. I have found it easier to both eat and sleep since knowing you were okay. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I struggle to believe you have come to terms with my attacking you so quickly, I cannot say I have reached the same conclusion. I am frankly disgusted with myself and my behaviour. You deserve much more than to be affected by this curse, or to be tied to such a man as myself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am more concerned with your wellbeing than my own. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Regarding your questions, of course I would be willing to answer any you may have. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would recommend speaking to Bill, yes, however I can fill you in on the most common side effects. They are generally reported to be an affinity for rare meat, and an irritability or mood change surrounding the full moon. I am sure you have already consulted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them</span>
  <em>
    <span>, and I would also recommend </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don’t Deserve to Live</span>
  <em>
    <span> by Emerett Picardy. I am happy to owl you my copy if you don’t have one yourself. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There is little written on the topic of werewolf mates I am afraid. I know of it only because of whispers within the werewolf packs. I am so sorry I have forced you into such an unprecedented position. I know myself I am experiencing a constant physical pull within my chest, the direction changing dependent on where I am. I can only assume it is a pull towards your location since I did not feel it at all while at The Burrow. On the other hand, I felt this pull even before I assaulted you, so it may only be on my end. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Remus, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Firstly, you must stop referring to what happened as an attack or an assault. You are a kind man, and what occurred wasn’t something you could control, so please stop blaming yourself. I am not holding this against you, I am just eager to work out how to deal with the issue and move on. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You are correct in assuming I have consulted </span>
  </em>
  <span>Fantastic Beasts</span>
  <em>
    <span>, although I did not find anything of merit. As for </span>
  </em>
  <span>Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don’t Deserve to Live</span>
  <em>
    <span>, I am surprised you recommended such a text! My understanding was it was largely discredited due to the false claim werewolves lose their sense of morals even while human. Either way, I shan’t be consulting it unless there are truly no other options. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Regarding the pulling sensation you described, I cannot say I have experienced the same, however I do often feel a sort of aching sensation. It is as if I am yearning for something I cannot identify. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I, too, have found it easier to sleep and eat since seeing you. I wonder if that could be related to the bite? Please do let me know what you think. I also feel less physically drained than I did beforehand, however that could just be me recovering from the ordeal as a whole.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Hermione,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You may not hold what happened against me, but I am sure you are in the minority there. Your friend Ron, for example, made it clear exactly what he thought of me, and I am afraid his sentiment of me being a ‘monster’ is echoed by much of the wizarding world. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione, I know you are a determined witch, and I am worried you are putting too much faith in having a full recovery and being able to move on from this. Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>sectumsempra</span>
  <em>
    <span> scar should have healed by now, if it has not then I would be concerned that the bite mark has interfered with it. As I am sure you have read, scars inflicted by werewolves never fade, and there is a possibility that by biting over your existing injury, the same can now be said of that wound as well. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The symptoms you have described also concern me, given the nature of the bite. I know we are both avoiding the issue, however I’m sure Bill’s filled you in that the mating bite is not a bite intended to turn, but rather designed to claim a romantic partner. I suspect the symptoms you have described are designed to keep us in close proximity to one another. However, I hope you know I will never put any pressure on you in that area. It was my decision, be it unconsciously, to do what I did, and I will not presume to decide the rest of your future for you as well. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will, I fear, be stuck with these symptoms for the foreseeable future, if not the rest of your life. You will also find yourself stuck with a certain aging werewolf, I’m afraid. I will spend the rest of my days attempting to make up to you what I have done. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours always,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remus</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Remus, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s lucky that both you and I know better then, if most wizards’ opinions will reflect Ron’s. I’m so sorry you’ve had to face such discrimination your whole life, I never really considered the scope of it until now! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>As usual, I think you are right, about both the scarring and the symptoms. I cannot come up with any other explanations, although I have owled Headmistress McGonagall to see if there are any further texts on werewolves at Hogwarts, or in her private library. I’ll let you know if she replies. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You are not nearly as old nor as undesirable as you paint yourself, Remus. It would do you good to have a little more self belief. I’m sure Harry must have told you of the crush I harboured while you were our professor! That being said, I am very grateful for you not pushing me for a response of any variety, especially not a romantic one. You are a good man, Remus Lupin, but this is all very new to me, and frankly the idea of a lifelong bond is somewhat terrifying. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Despite everything the Weasleys said, I hope I shall see you at the wedding. Bill still holds you in high regard and it would be good to speak about everything in person. I’ll save you a dance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione. </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Dearly Beloved</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“‘Ermione! Won’t you join us?” Fleur called. She was sat in a dressing gown on the edge of the bed in Molly and Arthur Weasley’s bedroom, with her sister Gabrille knelt behind her, brushing the older witch’s hair. “You must get ready wiz us!” She insisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, dear,” Agreed Molly, bustling into view around the corner of the half landing Hermione had been headed down to. “Go and fetch your dress dear, and come and get ready with the rest of the girls. Tell Ginny too, would you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes later, Hermione and Ginny were stood together in the doorway, dresses in hand. Ginny was a bridesmaid and had a girlish dress in a black and grey lace, with Gabrielle in a miniature version to match. Hermione had brought her only formal dress, knowing the wedding was coming up. It was a floaty lilac number with a long skirt overlapping at a high slit. The dress had originally had thin spaghetti straps, but Hermione had spent one of her sleepless nights with Ginny magically adding enough of a sleeve to cover most of her scar. Still, it wasn’t perfect, and Ginny caught her stood in front of Molly’s mirror, tugging at the neckline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look beautiful Hermione,” Ginny tried to reassure her. “Bloody hell, if I were you I’d be using Sleekeazy’s everyday if this is the result!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione smiled slightly, but it wasn’t genuine. She tried to look at herself objectively, and she knew that she might not be </span>
  <em>
    <span>unattractive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but she was never going to have the kind of self confidence about her appearance that Ginny did. At least this dress suited her, and she and her mum had bought it on one of their last outings together as mother and daughter. Hermione’s smile grew a little more genuine as she remembered</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Ermione,” said Fleur softly. “I wanted to have a word before ze wedding. I’m sure Ginny and Gabrielle will be ‘appy to finish doing their hair in ze bathroom.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, okay,” said Hermione. She and Fleur had spent little time together, but since the rescue mission to collect Harry, Hermione had a newfound respect for the other woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur waited until the two younger girls had left the room before speaking again. “I wanted to show you something.” She said, and slightly pulled down one side of her dressing gown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione gasped. On Fleur’s shoulder was a near circular bite mark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But- But Bill isn’t-” Hermione struggled to find words to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course ‘e isn’t.” Said Fleur with a scoff, “But ‘e still has some of ze ‘abits of ze werewolf. ‘E did zis not long after we were first together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And do you-” Hermione began to ask urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel it? Yes I do. Bill told me you ‘ad been feeling an ache? And a pulling? Yes?” Hermione nodded. “Well I feel it too, and Bill says ‘e does also, so I think it is probably normal. Of course, wiz Remus being a full werewolf, I am sure you probably feel it more strongly than I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had rushed at the other girl, grabbing her in an uncharacteristic hug. “Thank you! Fleur, I can’t tell you how relieved I am!” She exclaimed, and returned to her enthusiastic embrace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fleur returned gently it for a while, and the two girls sat in a new understanding of one another until she said, quietly, “Come on ‘ermione, you will crease your lovely dress.” </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hermione!” A deep, familiar voice called out over the loud music of the wedding reception. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor!” Hermione replied, “It’s so great to see you! I didn’t know you were coming!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Fleur invited me.” Krum replied abruptly. “Would you like to dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione followed Victor out to the dance floor, but where she’d once felt thrilled to spin in his arms, she now felt uneasy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are okay, Hermione?” Victor asked her, clearly noticing that her mind was elsewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, of course.” Hermione assured him, and they began to dance to a second song. They were about halfway through it when Hermione felt a weight she hadn’t realised she was carrying lift from her shoulders. When Krum spun her next she saw Remus had arrived, and was stood in the back corner quietly watching. When Hermione met his eyes he started to weave through dancing crowd towards them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, may I cut in?” Remus asked, and disgruntled, Victor went to stand with Ron and the redhead he didn’t know was Harry in disguise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you” said Hermione quietly, not wanting Victor to know she had been uncomfortable in his arms, they were still friends after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Remus questioned, “You seemed quite happy.” He sounded bitter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Victor’s my friend, but I don’t want to give him the wrong idea,” Hermione explained. “I overheard him asking Harry if I was seeing anyone earlier.” Remus scowled at her. “So… thank you.” Hermione reiterated a final time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My pleasure.” said Remus as they slowly began to dance. Bending down to whisper in Hermione’s ear, the wizard followed up “It wasn’t entirely selfless though. There was quite a jealous werewolf muttering in my ear.” Hermione blushed, and tried to look down to hide it, but she had an idea that Remus could probably still tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As her skin flushed, Hermione became hyper aware of the placement of Remus against her body. One of her small hands was completely engulfed in his large one, and his other was on her waist. The dress she had worn wasn’t immodest but it was thin, and the heat from his hand felt like it was searing her skin. It didn’t help that with the sheer size of his handspan, his thumb was millimeters from the base of her breast. Hermione didn’t doubt that Remus had placed his hand that way by coincidence, but she was starting to regret forgoing a bra. The dress simply hadn’t allowed for it, she reminded herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s spare hand was resting softly on Remus’ chest, just below his shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat, Hermione noted. They danced for a while in a silence tense with thoughts neither of them could say out loud, but the real trouble came when suddenly, something shoved into Hermione from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fred and George were dancing raucously together, completely disregarding the music playing, and before long Fred flung George around in a circle, accidentally slamming him into Hermione. Unsteady on her high heels, Hermione fell forwards into Remus’ chest. The hand that had been on her waist flew up to hold her across her back, and Remus' rough fingertips made contact with Hermione’s bare skin. She gasped aloud at the wave of want that seemed to ripple out from the innocent touch. Worst of all though, was that in stumbling forwards, Hermione had ended up with one of Remus’ legs sandwiched between hers, pushing through the slit of her skirt. Pressed flush against the older man, Hermione felt something begin to stir below her belly button, and she hid her face against the collar of Remus’ dress robes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Remus asked, and Hermione swore she could feel the heat of his breath on her ear more strongly than she could hear the actual words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not complaining,” Hermione whispered back, and felt a single laugh leave Remus' chest. In his arms, against his heart like this, the ache inside Hermione’s chest had almost completely vanished for the first time in weeks. Hermione didn’t think she had ever felt safer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” A furious voice interrupted the couple’s intimate sway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron!” A second ginger followed the first towards the pair, but, pulling her head away from Remus’ chest, Hermione recognised it to be Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t bloody believe you!” Ron spat at the two, still standing crushed together, Remus’ arm around Hermione’s waist again. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>attack</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, and- No Harry! He did attack her, I don’t know why the rest of you won’t call it what it is!” Ron gestured wildly as he countered Harry’s attempted interruption. “You attack her,” Ron started his tirade again, “and worst of all she bloody forgives you, and now you’re all over each other like teenagers in front of <em>everybody</em>!” Ron was right, it may have been because of his thunderous shouting, but almost everybody had now turned to face Hermione and Remus’. “It’s disgusting! You’re old enough to be her father, you filthy monster! You’re and monster and a bloody pervert, I bet you fancied her even back at Hogwarts, didn’t you?” A sneer had crept onto Ron’s face and he was snarling the words at Remus, who had pulled Hermione behind him. “Don’t try and play the hero now!” Ron laughed viciously. “We aren’t going to hurt her, it’s you who did that, remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly all four of them had their wands drawn: Remus’ was digging into Ron’s chin, while Ron’s was pointed at Remus’ chest, arm not quite long enough to make contact. Hermione and Harry both had wands in hands as well, and them pointed towards the redhead. The entire dancefloor cleared around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine!” Ron scoffed, jerking his head away from Remus’ wand. “I get it, you take his bloody side-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no sides to take Ron!” Hermione interrupted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Sure there aren’t.” Ron sounded defeated but incredulous, and walked away quickly, disappearing into the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air in the room was tense, but none of the onlookers knew what to say, or how to react to Hermione and Remus. They had, after all been behaving unavoidably like a couple on the dancefloor, free for anyone to see. Even Fred and George didn’t have the words to diffuse the tension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, a silver streak burst through the side of the marquee, and all heads turned to follow it’s path. As the burst of light reached the ground it morphed into the silvery form of a lynx, which didn’t pause before speaking in the deep, measured tone of Kingsley Shacklebolt:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the lynx turned to wisps of silver, chaos descended. Remus tried to grab on to Hermione’s arm, but she was too quick for him and she’d lunged herself at Harry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need to find Ron,” Hermione said, beginning to double check the contents of the small beaded bag she had been carrying all night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s not time, Hermione!” Said Harry. He was craning his head trying to spot the Weasley through the crowd, but having no luck. If Ron wasn’t still at the wedding, there’d be no getting to him in time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there was a shift in the air, and the shiver which passed around the still assembled guests showed everyone had felt it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That must be-” Hermione began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wards.” Remus finished her sentence, lifting his wand to the air. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Protego totalum!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Remus shouted, conjuring a shield which covered the majority of the wedding marquee. Around the room, Arthur, Tonks, and Xenophilius Lovegood, followed suit, providing cover for the entire wedding party between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go!” Bellowed Arthur, and the guests began scrambling to apparate away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ron!” Hermione called desperately through the chaos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Hermione!” Harry shouted back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swinging her head around for a glimpse of him, Hermione allowed Harry to grab her hand as a single tear escaped her. Finally, she turned back to Remus. </span>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” said Hermione quietly, and with a crack she was gone, and Remus’ shield charm flickered and failed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Stale Cereal or Crisps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hermione landed almost directly on top of Harry on the top step to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Bloody Hell, Hermione!” Harry exclaimed under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you still doing out here!” She argued back. He should have been inside the house by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think- I think there’s someone in there!” Harry replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I opened the door and the defenses had already been tripped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Homenum revelio</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hermione whispered, her wand towards the door. Nothing happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we meant to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hermione?” Harry asked</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. Harry, wait a second, I think I can feel-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door burst open, and in front of them stood Remus Lupin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dropped the wrist of the death eater she’d brought with her and launched herself into the older man’s arms. Remus wrapped his arms tight around her back and held her head against your chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. Hermione?” Harry asked from behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry,” Remus acknowledged, releasing Hermione from his embrace. She remained standing close to him. His eyes dropped to the two bound men on the doorstep. “What in Merlin's name have you two been up to?” Remus asked. “Honestly, you’re left alone for a few hours and-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should go inside, Remus.” Hermione urged gently. He nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three made their way into the kitchen of Number Twelve, the bodies of the death eaters floating levitating behind them. Once the two were laid out on the kitchen table and Harry, Hermione and Remus had settled themselves around the kitchen, Remus turned and lowly demanded, “Right. Explain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry launched into an explanation of what had happened when they arrived at Tottenham Court Road, from planning somewhere to hide, to the sudden appearance of death eaters, to the resulting fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An </span>
  <em>
    <span>explosion</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Questioned Remus. “Merlin, are you okay?” He grabbed Hermione’s face between his hands, checking for signs of damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Remus, I’m fine.” Hermione assured him. “I just lost my wand is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am,” the witch answered. “Besides, we have more important things to do right now.” She gestured at the bound death eaters on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, well first of all we should probably do this,” Remus said, slowly dropping his hands from Hermione’s cheeks. He turned to the bound men and vanished their masks with a flourish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know them?” Harry asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That one’s Dolohov,” Hermione said shakily, pointing at the further away of the two. “He was at the department of mysteries last year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that one?” Harry asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rowle.” Said Remus. “He was at the astronomy tower.” There was a brief pause. “What were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span> bringing them here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We didn’t have a choice, Remus!” Harry exclaimed, so the older wizard turned to Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know better than to do something like this, Hermione!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, it’s just-“ she looked flustered. “I lost my wand and my charms weren’t working very well and-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I cast a body bind curse but his hands were still moving, that’s why they’re…” Hermione gestured to the ropes Harry had bound the men in. “So I didn’t really trust myself to obliviate them and Harry doesn’t know how,” she gushed. “It’s this wand, I think, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your wand, Hermione.” Remus cut her off. “It’s me. This is all my fault!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about Remus?” Harry asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you left The Burrow my shields stopped working. And before- before when I was trying to stay away I couldn’t even cast a summoning charm. I think… I think it’s the bond. When we’re apart our magic just drains somehow. I don’t understand it at all.” He paused a moment. “Try something now, Hermione.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Expecto Patronum</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hermione called, stolen wand held aloft. A silvery otter sprung forth, leaping around the room easily. “You- You must be right, Remus. But that still doesn’t explain why my revealing charm didn’t work when we arrived!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Homenum revelio?” Remus asked. Hermione nodded, and he scoffed in response. “Not all human, am I? Doesn’t work on half breeds, come on Hermione, you know that!” He raised an eyebrow at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh… I forgot.” She blushed lightly, and rushed to clarify, “Not- not about the spell! I know the spell, I just forgot that you were…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, so can we obliviate them pr not?” Harry interrupted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it.” Hermione said. Raising the death eater’s own wand against him, she murmured “</span>
  <em>
    <span>obliviate</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” A misty look came over the man’s face, and she repeated the spell on his partner. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stupefy!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hermione followed up, stunning the one man who was still conscious. “When it gets dark we’ll drop them off somewhere and wake them up,” she explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then what’s the plan?” Remus asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There… isn’t one.” Hermione answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean there isn’t a plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’re looking for something.” Hermione answered, refusing to give too much away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, I’m coming with you, so you may as well tell me,” Remus argued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not,” replied Harry immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I am Harry. Do you really think you’d get far with Hermione not able to do any bloody magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed, Remus was right. “We’re looking for horcruxes.” Harry said resignedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to be kidding me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione shook her head. “Vol-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Shouted Remus, crushing his hand over Hermione’s mouth. That’s probably how they found you. The same with the wedding. Kingsley thinks they’ve put a taboo on the name, you can’t say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Hermione said when Remus’ released her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> made six, we think. The diary from the chamber of secrets and the ring Dumbledore had have already been destroyed. We know one of them’s Slytherin’s locket, but we don’t know where it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the others?” Remus prompted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know.” Hermione admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is entirely ridiculous! How are you expecting to find them? And how are you going to destroy them if you do?” Remus asked, furious with the pair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sword of Gryffindor.” Harry said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I destroyed the diary using basilisk venom, and the the sword of Gryffindor must have basilisk venom on it from when I killed it in second year, so we can use that.” Harry said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have the sword of Gryffindor?” Remus asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s at Hogwarts. We think.” Said Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus rested his head in his hands on the kitchen counter. “Ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two death eaters were deposited down a backstreet in Greater London, far from Grimmauld place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione awoke in a state of panic the first morning she spent in Number 12. All three of them had slept in the living room that night, Remus insisting that Hermione take the sofa. When she woke up, it was gone midday, Harry was sprawled on the floor under a conjured blanket, and Remus was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus? Remus!” Hermione called under her breath as she searched the ground floor of the house. She found him in the kitchen looking out of the window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning Hermione,” he greeted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning. What are you looking at?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come and look,” Remus said. When Hermione joined him he slung his arm gently around her waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Death eaters!” She gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus nodded. “They must know we might come here, but they clearly don’t know we already are. They can’t get inside either, or they would have done so by now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause as the two watched the patrolling death eaters in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any food here?” Hermione asked eventually. She hadn’t eaten for over twenty four hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, give me a second.” Remus turned away from the window and started rummaging through the cupboards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione followed him away from the window and took a seat at the kitchen table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, not a lot that’s still edible but I can offer you stale cereal, or crisps.” Remus reemerged from the pantry. In his arms he held an open box of Pixie Puffs, and a stack of Black Cat crisps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll take a crisps please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus tossed a packet over to her and dumped the rest on the table, sitting down opposite. He opened a bag of crisps himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Hermione.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hardly your fault there isn’t any food!” She scoffed. “No-one’s lived here in-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Remus growled. “It’s my fault your magic’s all screwed up. Your plan’s ruined before you’ve even started and it’s all my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous! And besides, Ron was meant to be coming with us, so we’re set for three. It’s barely a hardship, I’m sure you’ll be far more useful than him anyways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, Ron’s your friend. You can hardly blame him for reacting like this; he’s only looking out for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I can look out for myself thank you very much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. But, Hermione, it’s true, and I’m going to look out for you too, you know that, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll look out for you too,” she replied determinedly. Remus hung his head, sighing, but eventually nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, Hermione.” The wizard eventually said, standing up, and holding out an arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione walked into the offered hug and buried her face in the wizard’s jumper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m scared, Remus.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too, Hermione. Me too.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Second Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Hermione awoke on the second day at Number 12, she did so slowly. She had never felt so warm or safe, let alone when sleeping on the sofa of a house filled with dark magic. As she moved her head a little, nuzzling it into the pillow beneath her, she was surprised to feel the pillow move in response. When she opened her eyes, she had been sleeping on the chest of a very much awake Remus Lupin instead of the sofa cushion she fell asleep on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were having nightmares. I just wanted to check you were okay, I promise.” Remus vowed. “For someone mostly asleep, you were very insistent I stay.” The hint of a smile twitched on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god!” Hermione exclaimed, sitting up. She was sandwiched between Remus and the back of the sofa. “Did Harry see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry,” Remus replied, “he’s been up most of the night. He’s exploring the house.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hermione relaxed a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coming back?” Remus asked. He held his arm up expectantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… Just for a bit,” Hermione relented. There was work to be done, but for now she would just enjoy this overwhelmingly warm feeling of home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She awoke for a second time when Remus wriggled beneath her. She’d somehow dozed off and flung a leg over one of his as she slept. She lifted her head from his jumper clad chest to look him in the face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.” Hermione reassured. “One of these days you’ll have to stop apologising,” she murmured sleepily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus scoffed gently. “Doesn’t seem likely, does it?” He asked her in return. He wriggled under her again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, did you- did you want to get up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Not at all.” He closed his eyes briefly, and Hermione thought for a moment that she’d never seen him so contended. “Actually,” Remus said, and his eyes opened wide again, and he moved to push himself up slightly on his hands. He hadn’t given Hermione any warning to move her leg though, so he ended up pushing himself up just from one side, and tipping them over so they were facing one another. Hermione’s leg was still sandwiched between his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Hermione squeaked as they moved, suddenly able to feel why he’d become so uncomfortable with her draped over him. Against her trapped leg was pressed the hard, hot length of the man she was crushed against. Somewhere in her chest, the same spot where the yearning ache had resonated from only a few days prior, a smug feeling began to spread; she was almost preening at the attention. Hermione even caught herself tilting her head up towards Remus’, before she quickly burrowed her head back into his chest to hide her redemning face. “Sorry! I’ll- I’ll get-” Hermione tried to extract her trapped leg, but Remus had clamped his knees together to stop her, and she ended up only rubbing against his crotch more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low, rumbling noise resonated from Remus’ chest in response. Hermione couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a growl or a pur, but she could feel it travelling from his body into hers. Hermione squeaked again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you just stay still a moment!” Remus snapped. Hermione stilled immediately, and Remus closed his eyes with a pained expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione took the opportunity to study his face. There were deep lines furrowed in his weathered skin, joined by the occasional silverey scar. He had a sort of rough facial hair which Hermione had never considered before. It was somewhere between stubble and a full beard. Like his hair, the beard was full of greys, premature imposters amongst the sandy brown. Only his eyebrows seemed to truly reflect the man’s original hair colour. Hermione wriggled one hand free to run a thumb across one of them. Only with her hand resting on his face, did she realise how pale he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing, Hermione?” Remus asked, eyes still closed. It was almost a warning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without giving herself time to think about what she was doing, Hermione pressed a chaste kiss to the older man’s lips. She was surprised at how soft they were, and how she didn’t at all mind the feeling of rough facial hair against her cheek. That was new for her. Without giving Remus’ time to respond, she pulled back. His eyes opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” Remus snapped. “You don’t do that unless you know what you’re asking for, you understand?” His voice was almost a growl now; Hermione wanted desperately to shrink back into the comfort of the sofa cushions, but she had nowhere to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just thought-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus’ eyes were open, and met Hermione’s with an intensity she’d never experienced. “You thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You thought I’d really be able to stay in control if you did that? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione took a deep breath. “Well I’m your mate aren’t I? Is it not my job to help you with things like-” she faltered and gulped. “Things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Her eyes glanced down to where their legs met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Merlin, Hermione! Are you being serious right now?” In a flash Remus’ had sprung up from the sofa. It didn’t take long for Hermione to join him, standing in the center of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, isn’t it?” Hermione demanded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you honestly think of me?” Remus demanded in return. “I’m some dirty old man to you, who did </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of this</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he gestured to Hermione’s concealed bite scar, “to get a quick shag with a younger witch?” Hermione had never seen the man so furiously angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Remus, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I’d ever- that the wolf in me would ever even </span>
  <em>
    <span>let </span>
  </em>
  <span>me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Remus bellowed suddenly, and behind him a lamp flickered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione didn’t know what to say. Remus’ rage seemed to fill the room, and for the first time, Hermione was scared of him. For all his talk about being a monster, she had never seen it. Backing towards the door , she let out an infinitesimal whimper, and a wave of guilt seemed to wash over Remus as she did so. Hermione could see it settling heavily on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione, I’m so sorry, I-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione!” The door slammed open behind her, and she jumped backwards. “I found him,” panted Harry, having just run down from the top floor of the house, “I found R.A.B.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a lingering look at Remus, Hermione turned and left him alone again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Let Me Take Care of You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The days passed slowly at number 12, Grimmauld Place. Harry, Hermione, and Remus may have all agreed to wait until after the next full moon to make their attempt on the ministry, but there were still four days left, and tensions were running high. They had been there for weeks already, planning their hunt for the locket, and waiting for the polyjuice potion to brew in the upstairs bathroom. Remus’ had spent the last moon locked in the basement, with Harry and Hermione locked in the furthest bedroom just in case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione had set up base in the library, which was where she had spent the rest of her time, and which had earned a snort from Harry when he’d realised. In the back corner, across an antique desk presumably left behind by the Blacks, she had stacked sheets of parchment with plans, backup plans, and re-writes of the first plans for their assault. A permanent sticking charm tacked a running inventory of her beaded bag to the wall. Surrounding the desk, the floor was piled with books. Hermione had pulled anything and everything that could be remotely helpful, and so far she’d barely made her way through the first pile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One aisle away was a faded velvet sofa which Remus had made home. He and Hermione had been tiptoeing around one another since their argument, uncomfortable too close to each other, and unable to be away. A neat stack of his own reading materials sat at one end of the sofa, with an old cup of tea left behind on top. Hermione hadn’t asked what he’d been reading, but after a few days in his company she noticed the titles in his stack hadn’t changed. He moved them, the colours forming new patterns each day, but always the same titles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was the reason why Hermione Granger was currently hiding behind a bookshelf. Remus had left, presumably to fetch what megre lunch he could scrounge for the two of them. He ran like clockwork these days, delivering meals of whatever they could salvage from the pantry or convince Kreacher to go and fetch to Hermione’s desk three times a day. He interspersed it with cups of black tea, the only thing they had in abundance. So, assuming she would have the usual thirty minutes of time to herself, Hermione had taken the book she was currently two hundred pages into, her self inking quill, and the most recent cup of tea, and relocated to behind a ramshackle bookshelf she could peer through the gaps of. She conjured a rickety chair, and settled in to wait. Granted, Hermione knew that this plan would probably be more effective if the target of it didn’t have lupine senses for her to contend with, but that was why she’d stuck to her own strict schedule for the past few days. She needed him to expect her to be in one spot, and hopefully the element of surprise would be enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After twenty minutes of waiting, Hermione set down her book and quill, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The pulling sensation in her chest which had been so overwhelming to begin with, was now completely normal to her. She didn’t even notice it most days. Of course, it helped to have Remus so close by, but right now it could help in another way as well. Pushing all thoughts of planning and Voldermort and survival away, Hermione tried for the first time to really focus on her connection to Remus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of the most bizarre sensations she had ever experienced, the feeling that as even as he walked around the kitchen, the string she imagined tied around her tugged in subtly different directions. With practice, Hermione imagined she’d be able to pinpoint exactly where Remus was, rather than just the general direction, but for now this would do. For now, this was the perfect warning system that Remus was on his way back up the stairs, and getting closer and closer as the pull faded almost entirely away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione waited until she could spot him through the crack in the old wood, and watched him as he crossed the library. Leaving one steaming bowl on the sofa, Remus rounded the end of the aisle towards Hermione’s desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione jumped with the sudden crash of porcelain on floorboards as Remus dropped her lunch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione? HERMIONE?” He called, flying into a frantic panic. Scrambling back out of the library, Hermione heard him fly up the stairs to the bedrooms, still calling her name. She supposed she should feel bad for tricking the man, but at least this way she would get an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione allowed the combination of the pull in her chest and the sounds of slamming doors and crashing furniture let her know where Remus was, and once she heard him thundering back down the stairs, she tiptoed from her spot to meet him in the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione,” Remus exhaled at the sight. Arms outstretched, he stepped towards her, but she raised her wand between them. The look of betrayal that flooded Remus’ face sent sharp pangs of guilt into Hermione’s stomach. “Hermione?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been watching me.” She said. It wasn’t a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Hermione snapped. The simple aknowledgement of his actions had been the last thing she'd expected. No reasons, no excuses, nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve been watching you.” Remus clarified. There was a pause as they stood facing one another, Hermione’s wand still aloft between them. “I- Sorry, I’ll- I’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Hermione lowered her wand. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus took a deep breath, and then, as if his whole being was deflating, bent to sit on the staircase. Feet spread wide on the floor of the landing, he rested his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His face towards the floor, he refused to meet Hermione’s gaze as she slowly came closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything you feel,” Remus spoke eventually, “I feel a hundred times over.” His speech was careful, measured, rehearsed. Hermione wondered if he’d practised these words from the comfort of his sofa. “You said you can feel where I am? Well I can feel where you are, and if you’re injured, or how you’re feeling. I can feel how tense you’ve been since we got here, and how hungry you are. It’s killing me that I can’t do anything about it, and especially that it’s me who’s made you so uncomfortable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn't yo-” Hemione interjected, but Remus was having none of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was though,” He said, finally looking up at her. “My entire being is centered around providing you with everything you need to be healthy and happy and I’m failing at it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not failing at </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Remus,” Hermione countered. He raised his eyebrows at her disbelievingly. “We’re all stuck here, we’re all just doing what we can.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Remus chuckled. “Moony doesn’t really get that, though.” He looked down again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remus, can- Can I…?” Hermione gestured tentatively towards the step beside him. He looked up only long enough to nod once before returning his head to his hands. Hermione waited for him to move over but he didn’t. Eventually she forced herself into the space beside him. With one arm pressed painfully against the bannister, she tentatively laid the other across Remus’ hunched back. She’d meant the move to allow a little more wriggle room for her ribs, but the way he relaxed under her touch did more to soothe the pain than any extra space would. Tentatively, she placed her other hand deliberately on his knee, where his spread legs had hers pinned together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hermione,” Remus said. She rubbed her thumb tentatively across the material of his trousers. They were corduroy, she hadn’t noticed before. He spoke just as she had given up on him finishing his sentence. “Will- will you just let me take care of you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione raised her hand to his face, trying to pry his hand off of his cheek. He wouldn’t let her. His face was resolutely hidden. The more she tried to tilt his head towards her, the more determinedly he kept his head down. When Hermione gave up with a huff she ran her hands through her hair in frustration and leant back on the stairs. The loss of her touch was enough to make him jerk upwards, contorting himself to see where she had gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione hadn’t known what she was waiting for to respond to him, until his eyes met hers. They were unbearably sad, was the first thing she noticed. So much so that her heart leapt in her chest and she lurched upwards from where she was leant back. Closer, she could see the hurt and the desperation that she had had a hand in putting there. The lump in her throat told her what she had already known in the back of her mind, that she would do absolutely anything to make this man </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Hermione breathed. Even Remus’ enhanced senses wouldn’t have picked it up if they hadn’t been only inches apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within seconds he had reached out and pulled her across into his lap. His head was pressed into her shoulder where he’d first marked her. Her’s hit the wall on the other side of the stairs. Hermione’s arm was wedged between them awkwardly, her other trying to steady herself, clutching onto his jacket. His, in turn were dug painfully into her waist, holding her against him viciously. No part of this was gentle and caring, it was all elbows and nails and desperate relief. Hermione tried twisting against his grip a little, but he pulled her in tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Remus growled at the action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Hermione soothed quietly. She rubbed gentle circus over Remus’ arm where she had grabbed it so roughly before. They stayed for a while, their hold on each other never wavering. While Remus carelessly drank her in to calm the agitated wolf thrumming just under his skin, Hermione’s brain was working double time trying to work out what to say. Emotions and relationships and people had never been her strong suit. Her nature was to use the logical, and the sensible, but what was most logical was for her to do what a werewolf’s mate was supposed to do, because that was what would help Remus the most. She had tried that though, and knew how well it would go down. It was time for a new approach. Slowly, deliberately, she spoke. “You’re already taking care of me, Remus. But- but if that’s what you want, then… I’d like that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They fell into a sort of faux domesticity after that. Pretending that they had more than a week left before they had to stage their break in, they refused to talk about it. Instead, the next day Hermione woke up when Remus left the bed they had shared. He’d found a set of Sirius’ old pyjamas in his childhood bedroom, and they didn’t fit him at all; too short in the arms and legs, and too broad in the shoulders and waist. He’d insisted on wearing them though, determinedly proving to Hermione that he had no salacious motives in sleeping beside her. She watched him go, smiling at the bare calves with their wiry hair poking out between old pyjamas and worn out socks. He was back within minutes with cups of tea in hand, and they went about their day. Hermione moved her day’s reading to Remus’ sofa, consulting him on new material she came across, and dutifully letting him take the exhausted books back to the shelves for her. They made, or rather scavenged, lunch and dinner side by side, breaking open expired tins from the Black pantry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, the inhabitants of number 12 spent the evening pretending that they weren’t at war. Harry listened intently to Remus’ stories of Sirius and James at Hogwarts, with the marauder’s map open in front of him. Occasionally, he’d lean over it and trace the same name with a finger. Hermione didn’t have to be close enough to read it to know it said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ginevra Weasley</span>
  </em>
  <span>. With Regulus’ childhood exploding snap cards she played solitaire quietly, tucked into Remus’ side. If Harry noticed how close they had suddenly become, he didn’t comment. As the evening drew in, Remus lit a fire in the grate, and he and Harry took ownership of the cards for a round of exploding snap. Hermione took the opportunity to fiddle with an antique wireless until it picked up the crackling noise of Celestina Warbeck. The signal was terrible, but Hermione’s mind flooded with visions of summers spent at The Burrow; Molly’s singing along with the radio drifting out of the window to where Hermione read in the shade, watching the boys play quidditch overhead. A lump formed in her throat, she had never appreciated that while she had it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in a second,” Hermione muttered as she fled the room. Remus’ head snapped up and his eyes followed her across the room. When she returned with parchment and quill in hand, he had been just about to get up and go to find her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione settled back into an armchair, and the boys returned to their game. Listening to the crackle of the fire, the occasional bang of the cards, and the warbling on the wireless, she began to write. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Ron, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fingers crossed this letter finds you, obviously we can’t use an owl but I don’t know if muggle mail will make it to The Burrow. Harry told me your mum sent him a letter once, so there’s hope. At the very least it should have less chance of being intercepted. We’re alive and well enough, but I can’t say much more. You know where we are though, if you think about it. Hopefully we’ll see you soon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t sign off the letter, Ron would know who it was from. Instead she folded it neatly, wrapping it in another sheet of parchment in place of an envelope, and pocketed it. There were some stamps left in her purse, tucked away with a few muggle notes, and she would convince Kreacher to mail it on his next hunt for food. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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